To everybody who has reviewed these past few chapters and has not received a thank you from me, I'm really sorry, it's not that I don't appreciate you, because I most certainly want to encourage reviews, it's just these past few weeks I've had a million things due. And I've just been writing whenever I had spare time.
But I'm starting off afresh with this one. And I'm going to get back into the habit. :)
So, I hope you enjoy this one. It's a little present for you guys, hopefully it'll make your Monday a little better.
"God, I hate Mondays." John said, gripping his head, hoping that the pain would subside.
"I've told you time and time again, that if you drank more water on Sunday that this wouldn't happen."
"How much am I supposed to drink, Sherlock? The whole bloody Pacific?" He roared at his flatmate. Pain and patience did not go hand-in-hand.
"Of course not, John." He stared at him with a gravely serious expression. "It's saltwater for one thing. It would be completely ineffective in hydrating you."
John clapped a hand to his forehead in exasperation and immediately regretted it, shutting his eyes when the dull and aching pain in his skull grew. He gave a deep sigh and tried not to shout this time.
"Look…" He paused. "If you can't say anything helpful, will you kindly shut up?"
"Would you like a massage?"
This was such a random and surprising question that John's eyes flew open. For a minute he couldn't respond, instead he just stared at Sherlock with his brow furrowed, unsure if he had heard him correctly. Sherlock rolled his eyes upon seeing John's bewildered expression.
"A massage, John. Rubbing the body to relieve tension. Honestly, I have to elaborate everything." He sighed exasperatedly.
"Wait…how is you pounding my head going to make me feel better?"
"You're a doctor aren't you? Shouldn't you know?" He chuckled.
"Yeah, and I've tried the whole 'apply pressure to occipital' thing. It doesn't help."
"Don't be daft, John. Your failure doesn't indicate that the method is a failure." John glared at him.
"Fine." He said through gritted teeth, and he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Sherlock grabbed one of their chairs, placed it directly behind John's armchair and sat down. He let his hands rest on John's shoulders for a moment before he began to knead the tense skin he felt beneath the jumper. He heard John hiss.
"Oh wow…you're gonna give me bruises, Sherlock." He winced. It was a little uncomfortable, but he couldn't deny how nice it felt. He hadn't even realized how tight his shoulders were until Sherlock had started forcing the kinks out, and it felt amazing.
"Just try and relax, John. Sit up." He did as he was told, and Sherlock's fingers pressed in between the notches in his spine. "And try to stay still." It was at that precise moment that he pressed on a particular vertebra and John arched his back involuntarily. It was so sudden that John nearly fell out of his chair.
"Jesus!" But Sherlock continued unabashed, and let his hands move up to the back of John's neck and the base of his skull. "Oh my god…" John whispered. "Mmmm…" he moaned, and Sherlock smiled at the power he felt from knowing that he had John Watson moaning at his fingertips.
It went on for a few minutes and Sherlock eventually stopped. John sat there a moment, not feeling Sherlock's expert fingers and firm hands on him felt odd.
"Blimey." He said quietly in surprise. "Headache's gone." He turned around to look at Sherlock for the first time since he had started. "Thanks."
"Anytime, John."
"I might have to take you up on that." He smiled. As did Sherlock, who hoped that headaches wouldn't be the only occasion in which he could hear John moan in pleasure because of him.